Here We Are
by R.C. Monkeytree
Summary: Three months post Grave. Buffy. New-Spike. How does it all work out?


Title: Here We Are  
Author: R.C. Monkeytree  
Spoilers: Grave  
Rating: R  
Summary: Three months post Grave. Buffy. New-Spike. How does it all work out?  
  
  
The rumbling thunder lulled outside the window, pearl-sized raindrops beat regularly against the watermarked glass. Buffy studied the raindrops sliding silently along the panel and mentally traced lines and picture drawings along the wet dots.  
  
Her boyfriend droned on about the same conversations he'd had with the kids in class, about the arguments he'd had with the other teachers or about some metaphorical wonder he'd just discovered in some stupid obscure literature she'd never even heard of.  
  
"William," she broke his stream with a gentle call. His fork paused in mid-air, hovering above the crimson, rare steak and gazed upon her with adoring, expectant eyes. Just waiting for an order to fall from her lips, so he may scramble to accomplish it, and return with a satisfied smile like a dog who'd finally learned how to roll over and earn his treats. She took one look at his face, and all her courage vanished. "Forget it."  
  
"What is it, my love?" He set the fork down against the plate and leaned forward across the table with concern. The candlelight flickered, accentuating his fine cheekbones and highlighting his soft blue eyes. Moments like these, she could almost convince herself of the lie she'd been living. "You know you can tell me anything, dear. I'm right here."  
  
"Spike-" His face sunk and he sat back, shifting uncomfortably in his suit. Buffy quickly corrected herself. "William- we… there's something we should talk about."  
  
"Is something the matter?" Spike- William, scooted his chair closer, hoping the physical proximity would bring her some comfort. It only made it harder. "Have I done something to upset you, love?"  
  
"No. That's just it. You're…" she fumbled for the right word. "You're perfect. You're everything a woman could ever ask for. You're thoughtful, you're kind, you're sensitive, you're generous," she touched the silver bracelet he'd given her that night. No special occasion, he just saw it in a window and thought of her.  
  
"Can you believe it's only been three months?" He took up her hands in his and pressed a kiss to the back. Well, two and a half, really. For the first two weeks after he came home, he first had to prove that he had a soul. Tests were made, demons were summoned, spells were cast- of the non-Willow variety, of course. In the end, Spike received Dawn's approval in the form of a squealing, whirling hug and Xander's too, in the form of a reluctant grunt and a nod. Nobody made a fuss when he asked Buffy out on a real, formal date- dinner, a movie and a chaste kiss goodnight.  
  
"Three *excellent* months," Buffy amended. "And they were wonderful. You've given me the stability I'd been lacking ever since… ever since mom died."  
  
He looked both regretful and pleased at that.  
  
"Just want you to be happy."  
  
"The thing is…" It was now or never. She looked his face, filled with worship and cherish. She took a deep breath and gathered what little courage she had left. "I'm… not."  
  
"Not?"  
  
"Happy."  
  
"Oh." He dropped her hand.  
  
"Spi- William, I- it's not you," she said desperately. Anything to get that look off his face. "It was never you. It's me."  
  
"That so?" He pushed his chair back and darted his eyes around the restaurant, looking at anything but her.  
  
"I can't- I mean… oh, I don't know what's wrong with me." She looked down and wrenched the white napkin in her hands. "It's- it's just that there's been something… lacking. I-"  
  
"What did I do? Did I do something wrong?" he muttered, more to himself than to her. "Did I not love you enough? Did I not tell you that I love you enough?"  
  
"No! William, you did nothing wrong." She reached out for him, and he recoiled, as if he was shielding himself from a venomous snake. "I'm wrong. Me. It's me."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"I wish… I wish I could explain it to you." She paused, noting that they were attracting a few odd stares from other patrons. "But I can't."  
  
"Can't be a monster, can't be a man," he mumbled. "You… you don't love me?"  
  
He already knew the answer, she never had to speak.  
  
"But you had feelings for *him*, didn't you?" He spat out bitterly. "The soulless monster, you liked. The vermin who maimed and killed and *raped*."  
  
"No!" she objected violently. "Not… him. Not… I couldn't love him."  
  
"No, you can't love me," he corrected. "You *wouldn't* love him, is that it?"  
  
She said nothing, and instead trained her attention on the candlelight. She heard the furious fuming of the vampire before her. He threw some money down on the table and hurried out of the restaurant.  
  
"Spike- Spike, wait!"  
  
She chased him. She caught up with him two blocks down, by then, they were both soaked to the skin.  
  
"Listen to me- please," she pleaded with him. It fell on deaf ears, and he quickened his pace. She grabbed onto his arm and jerked, forcing him to stop.  
  
"What?!" he roared. "What do you want from me? What else could you *possibly* want now? I gave you everything! My heart, my mind- I got a fucking soul for you!"  
  
The profanity stunned her. It was the first time she'd heard William use vulgarities. She missed it.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"No, *I'm* sorry! Sorry I ever fell in love with a bitch like you."  
  
Bitch. She missed that too.  
  
"I give and I give and you push and you push- w- what-" he looked hopelessly about him, as if the storm or the rain could give him the answers he sought. "What the bloody hell does it take? What?! Can't you tell me?"  
  
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."  
  
"God!" he violently kicked a rock into the bushes. "You are seriously off your bird, you stupid bint- you know that? You want Spike, is that it? You want the violence, the murderer, the rapist- is it?"  
  
"No, it's not… I just…" she sighed. If she couldn't understand it, how could he? "He was… he was… passionate."  
  
"Passionate?! He was-"   
  
"I know, I know!" she held up a hand. "I know that it's wrong, I know that it's… look," she tried again. "I'm talking about the guy endured hours of torture for me. I'm talking about the guy who knew that I'd been ripped out of Heaven, who let me unload all this shit I had inside on him without so much as a complaint. The man, who- for all his macho supposed evilness- left the wedding early just to make me feel better. He's… he's done things for me."  
  
"I would've done them for you too," he replied, hurt. "If I had the chance, I would've-"  
  
"I know. But-"  
  
"But that's not what you want. That's not what you're talking about," he said darkly. "The sweet side was nice- just that, *nice*. But you wanted the monster, didn't you? The guy you fucked senseless in abandoned houses and next to dumpsters. The guy who… tied you up and did things to you that you knew you shouldn't but loved anyway. That the guy you wanted?"  
  
She looked down. The rain was letting up now, but the wind was still harsh. Neither cared to move out of the storm.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Well. I do," he chuckled mirthlessly. "And I think you do too. I think you finally get it." She said nothing. "Well. Aren't you going to tell me?"  
  
"Don't make me." A small, child-like whispered. With her head bowed, she looked like a five year old who knew that she'd done something wrong and was about to receive her just punishment.  
  
"Tell me. Please. Rip my heart out and get it o'er with, cause anything's better than this. Dangling. Pretending you love this version of me when you don't." She didn't answer. Anger washed over him, and he seized her by the shoulders violently, shaking her. "Goddamn it, Buffy, tell me! Tell me what we both know already."  
  
She looked up, finally. She stared steadily into his eyes, saturated with grief and pain. She saw the man before her, and the fragile heart he carried. The one she was breaking.  
  
"I love him," she let out a choking sob. "I love him. I love him. I love Spike."  
  
He released her, stumbling back, the water splashing up against his pant legs.  
  
"I love him, I love him, I love him." She continued chanting, sinking to her knees into the puddle. He stood there, looking at her for the longest time with an unreadable expression.  
  
"Well," he said finally. "You couldn't have told me sooner?"  
  
The rain had passed then, and the wind had died. All that could be heard in the silent night was Buffy's quiet sobbing. After what seemed like an eternity, he turned around and slowly walked away.  
  
After a while, the tears exhausted themselves. She collapsed onto the sidewalk, not caring what the early morning pedestrians might say when they found her in a couple of moments. She was tired. And she just wanted to sleep deep.  
  
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Black. Cold. Damp.  
  
He traipsed through the darkness, searching for the light at the end. At last, he came upon it.  
  
"Here we are now." Same old line. Same old place. Everything's different. "Entertain us."  
  
The demon's emerald eyes gleamed like jewels, radiating a knowing taunt and miles of untold wisdom, hidden under a sadistic fold. 


End file.
